


Try and Try Again

by JuxtaposeFantasy



Series: WangSong [1]
Category: Chinese Actor RPF, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) RPF
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Weilong is young but he's no boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23051008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuxtaposeFantasy/pseuds/JuxtaposeFantasy
Summary: Burned once, Wang Yibo isn't eager to fall for another guy. Then along comes Song Weilong--young, mysterious, and resembling someone Yibo is trying to get over. He doesn't want this, but Weilong may have other plans.
Relationships: Wang Yi Bo/Song Weilong, references to one-sided Wang Yi Bo/Xiao Zhan
Series: WangSong [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1732489
Comments: 102
Kudos: 148





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First off, I am a fan of Anyone/Yibo, so I'm going to write him with whomever makes for an interesting or sexy story. In saying that, I discovered the existence of Song Weilong a day ago and I've watched only a couple of vids of him, so I'm still learning him. But wow, he's gorgeous, so of course I need to write about him banging Yibo's brains out :) This series is mostly written, so shouldn't take too long to play out.

Wang Yibo had been working for twelve hours. He was exhausted and his patience was thin, but he made sure that no one looking at him would know it as he arrived at the studio for the new photoshoot for YOUTH!, a high fashion supplemental being produced by BAZAAR magazine.

He avoided scrubbing at his sore eyes, afraid of smearing the eyeliner he carried over from the drama he’d been shooting that day. The magazine had hired its own makeup artist for the shoot and Yibo was unsure how picky the person would be. Some of them, he knew from experience, would yell at him for reddening his eyes when a liquid remover would do the job less harshly.

He was greeted at the door by the director of the shoot, a man who gushed over Yibo as he led him to the makeup area. There were two chairs and one was occupied by his partner for the shoot. 

“Song Weilong,” Yibo murmured when his eyes met the younger man’s in the mirror. 

“Wang Yibo,” came the quiet response as Yibo slid into his chair and let out a long breath. 

Weilong’s makeup appeared to be nearly complete. A makeup artist plucked here and there at his hair. Yibo was relieved to see that the look for the shoot wasn’t overly weird or required extensive time in the chair.

The makeup artist finished up with Weilong and switched to Yibo. He was grateful to close his eyes and let it happen.

“Long day?” Weilong asked.

Yibo kept his eyes closed as he answered. “The usual.”

“That means all day.”

Yibo shrugged.

He didn’t know Weilong very well. Their interactions before tonight had been perfunctory. Years ago, they’d both been little brothers on Day Day Up, but Weilong hadn’t actually participated on many episodes so they’d barely spoken. Since then they’d exchanged handshakes on the set of a couple of variety shows and crossed paths on photoshoots and media events. Yibo wasn’t the most social of guys and from what he could tell, Weilong was an introvert as well, though he managed to handle it with more grace than Yibo did, using boyishness to cover his reserved nature. The two of them hosting together would probably put an audience to sleep, Yibo thought wryly. The only reason they’d been paired for this shoot was because they were riding high atop the popularity charts for projects they’d done with other actors.

After several minutes, during which Yibo nearly nodded off, the makeup artist murmured, “You may open your eyes.”

He did so reluctantly, wincing slightly against the bright vanity lights. His makeup was complete and now his hair was being worked on. He was startled to see that Weilong still sat in his chair beside him, chin on his hand, watching as Yibo’s hair was manipulated. Had he been watching the entire time?

“Don’t you need to go to wardrobe?” Yibo asked him.

“I will,” Weilong said, still quietly. “There’s no hurry. I find this process fascinating.”

The makeup artist glanced over at him and giggled. Weilong smiled back. He had a nice smile, Yibo thought. Big lips. He had a nice look overall, which contributed to his rocketing popularity. Weilong reminded Yibo a lot of Xiao Zhan. A younger, more masculine and subdued version of him, perhaps. But thinking of Xiao Zhan made acid burn in Yibo’s belly, so he turned his thoughts elsewhere.

“Have you done a duplex cover shoot before?” Weilong asked him.

“No. Well,” Yibo corrected himself, “only with myself.”

“I’ve done one with a woman, but not with another man.”

Yibo slanted his eyes to him in the mirror’s reflection. “It should be the same. Mostly.”

Weilong smiled faintly. “’Mostly’ covers a lot. What if it’s a couples’ shoot?”

Yibo inwardly sighed. “Then we’ll shoot a couples’ shoot. All that matters is that the magazine sells.”

“You’re comfortable with it, aren’t you?” Weilong, for all his youth, possessed a direct gaze. Yibo felt it deep. “Ever since The Untamed.”

“It’s business. I’m comfortable with business.”

Yibo hadn’t meant to sound so curt, but Weilong’s questions snagged his tired nerves. Though Yibo was only two years older than him, on days like this he felt like a thirty-year-old veteran of the industry. There wasn’t room in his mind for youthful squeamishness.

Especially not about this subject.

“You’re admirable.” Weilong’s smile contained a flash of teeth this time and it made him look quite mature. It was the smile of someone confident and aware of how good-looking he was. Yibo was self-aware, too, but he didn’t reveal it in his smiles. He let it slip out during snarky or careless replies to stupid interview questions. Weilong’s way was far better for his career.

“Why am I admirable?” Yibo asked as the stylist sprayed his hair into a tousled mess.

“You commit to doing what you need to. You’re a professional. That’s what I seek for myself.”

Yibo didn’t respond. He couldn’t tell if Weilong was shining him on or was serious. Either way, Yibo didn’t much care. Weilong struck him as someone who’d gotten lucky and was now floundering a bit, unsure how to move to the next level of stardom. It was a circumstance Yibo had experienced when he was a teenager, which felt like a million years ago. He could no longer relate. Not to mention Yibo naturally felt more comfortable with older, more experienced people. Weilong wasn’t the kind of guy he’d hang out with if given the choice.

When Yibo’s hair was appropriately messy, he and Weilong walked together to wardrobe. Though their agencies had provided the magazine with their measurements, they were measured again just in case. Yibo was conscious of Weilong standing beside him, taller than him and just as slim. Again, the comparisons to Xiao Zhan tried to surface, but Yibo ruthlessly stuffed them down. He felt Weilong’s eyes on him as the tape measure moved around his body, stretching around his waist and rising up his inseam. But it wasn’t until Yibo began stripping off his street clothes that he truly felt the weight of the other man’s attention.

Weilong wasn’t gay. Yibo hadn’t heard a peep of that. He’d checked, because when Weilong had finally hit it big, his resemblance to Xiao Zhan had stirred a battered hope inside Yibo. The hope hadn’t lived for long. He’d seen Weilong’s interviews and watched his interactions with fans and female co-stars. Weilong sounded and acted straight. He was comfortable flirting with women. Unlike Yibo, he had no reservations about providing cutesey fan service to his female fans, telling them he loved them and openly suggesting that he’d be willing to marry one of them.

Despite the evidence of Weilong’s heterosexuality, Yibo felt self-conscious as he stripped down in front of him. Yibo wore his hair longer these days and he was aware that above the neck he offered a fantasy that didn’t match the one below it. He’d been told during a conversation with a drunken TV executive that his peculiar combination of masculinity and beauty drove some people wild, made him a mystery that people yearned to solve. His team strove to take advantage of it with the photoshoots and roles they booked for him, but there were times when Yibo felt his unique appeal more acutely than others. Such as now.

There was a handful of wardrobe personnel of both genders assisting them, but it was Weilong’s eyes he felt on his body as Yibo tried on various outfits and stood for them to be pinned to better fit him. It was Weilong’s gaze that seemed to roll over the contours of his body, leaving a tingle in its wake.

Yibo, for his part, didn’t look over once at the younger man. Something told him that he needed to be careful, though of what, he wasn’t sure. Instinct told him it was safest to remain as disconnected as possible, and so he pretended as though he didn’t notice the attention, hoping Weilong and his disconcerting stare would fall away.

With wardrobe complete for the first round, the director guided them to the set. It was designed to resemble a classroom, with student desks and a chalkboard. The floor was alternating tiles of black and white, providing a funhouse touch. Yibo and Weilong were garbed in high fashion’s idea of a school uniform: loosely draped designer ties and ripped up blazers with zippers and stylish patches sewn on them. Yibo, in shorts too short to be allowed in any academy, had been given knee socks and platform sneakers.

At first they were directed to sit side by side at the desks. They gave the camera various expressions ranging from bratty to bored to sultry. Weilong was given an apple to play with and was directed to pretend to take a bite from it. Later, Weilong stood behind Yibo’s shoulder and posed with his foot on the empty desk chair, his long leg framing Yibo while Yibo fed the camera rebellious and petulant expressions. The theme of the photoshoot was Rising Stars with Attitude, so Yibo gave plenty of that. It was his specialty in a way, and came easily. He didn’t look back at Weilong to see how he fared, though the lack of corrections from the director indicated that Weilong was doing fine with the assignment.

About midway through the shoot, while Yibo was sitting with his legs spread suggestively beneath the desk, Weilong’s hand appeared over his shoulder and picked up the end of his tie. Weilong wrapped the end around his fist and pulled it taut. The tie was loose and noose-like, so it didn’t tug on Yibo’s neck, but he was alarmed to feel it tug directly on his dick.

As the director and photographer murmured encouragement, Weilong pulled Yibo’s tie this way and that while leaning over his shoulder from behind. Yibo kept his expression bitchy, hoping it would be enough, but the dreaded words came anyway.

“Yibo, look up at Weilong.”

Steeling himself, he tilted his head to the side and back, stretching his neck in a way he knew was flattering, so he could meet Weilong’s eyes.

“Try some resentment, Yibo. He’s pulling your tie. He’s your competition while you fight to be the top student.”

 _God,_ Yibo thought. He was glad he was good at hiding what he felt, otherwise it would be a serious problem.

He glared up at Weilong without narrowing his eyes and allowed just a hint of a furrow to touch his eyebrows. It was important to look sexy while doing this and not actually scowl. Weilong stared down at him with his penetrating eyes, looking every inch the threatening rival while holding Yibo’s tie at various angles as the photographer snapped frames. He jerked on the tie suddenly and Yibo felt it at the back of his neck as he was pulled forward. His lips fell open before he could control himself. Weilong’s wide mouth twitched and his eyes narrowed.

Weilong still managed to look angelic, though, and it unnerved Yibo even as the rational part of his brain noted what a useful duality it was in their industry. No one would believe Weilong was the devil, though the angel in him was just too good to be true.

“Weilong, get closer.”

Yibo steadied his breathing as Weilong planted a hand on Yibo’s desk so that he loomed over him. He’d shortened his grip on the tie and now Yibo had no choice but to allow Weilong to pull him closer, so that their faces were too close for comfort, but perfect for the framing of a photograph.

“Rival,” Weilong stated quietly while staring deeply into his eyes. His eyebrows were heavy. His hair fell carelessly over his forehead. He looked very male. Yibo’s gaze flicked to his lips and he hated himself for it.

“No competition,” Yibo declared, just as softly.

Weilong’s smile held surprise…and something more. Curiosity? Yibo heard the camera shutter fluttering avidly.

“Good, boys. Let’s try the next scene.”

Weilong released the tie and straightened up. He stood there, as though he were thinking hard about something. After a moment, he backed away. Freed, Yibo slid out from the desk and quickly put distance between himself and the scene. He turned his back on everyone as he discreetly adjusted his too short shorts—which were now even shorter thanks to the bulge in the groin. 

“Shit,” he muttered.

“Coming?”

Weilong had paused at the edge of the set, his dark eyes innocent, his generous mouth soft and questioning. He looked down at Yibo’s problem. His ears pinked. 

“Ah. I’ll stall for you,” he said and strode off.

Yibo’s cheeks burned. How humiliating. He’d just come off like an amateur. Luckily for him, the embarrassment killed his erection, allowing him to walk stiffly to the wardrobe section for his next outfit. 

This time he and Weilong were supposed to dress as athletes. Swimmers, to be exact. Yibo made a mental note to tell his manager he needed pre-approval of all future photoshoot themes. The navy blue shorts he picked up, though they’d reach mid-thigh, were going to reveal everything.

“Also, this.” The wardrobe manager handed him a silky white robe with ostrich feather trim and green racing stripes. It looked ridiculous and Yibo couldn’t imagine who the target audience for it was, but he snatched it gratefully. When he slid the slippery garment over his shoulders, it was long enough to reach the floor. But it was so thin that when it rested against his body, it outlined every curve and angle of his body anyway. _Great._

He pulled on the swimming trunks with the robe providing some privacy as he did so. Because of the tight fit, he had to go naked beneath the trunks. They didn’t hide anything. Aggravated, but always the professional, he turned around and discovered he’d gotten off easy in the wardrobe department.

They’d put Weilong in a Speedo. Yibo couldn’t even pretend not to check him out in that tiny scrap of nylon. Tall, slender, broad shouldered and nicely muscled, Weilong’s body type was much like Yibo’s own. Yibo was enough of a narcissist to consider it the picture of male perfection. And what Weilong was packing in the little yellow swimsuit—Yibo swallowed. Weilong had nothing to be ashamed of in that department.

“Nice,” Weilong murmured, a touch of sarcasm in his voice as he stepped into the knee-high, chunky, blue fur boots that an assistant held for him. It was a ludicrous pairing, but Yibo’s attention skipped off the stupid boots to linger over Weilong’s dark nipples, the angularity of his shoulders, and that bulging Speedo…

 _Just like Xiao Zhan,_ he thought a bit desperately.

But he didn’t want to think about the past and lovers who had never become lovers. He could only focus on the present, and currently that meant a blushing Song Weilong, who was half-naked and boasting a cock that appeared capable of splitting Yibo in two if he sat on it.

Embarrassed by his thoughts, Yibo didn’t wait for him. He hurried over to the next set and was unsurprised to find that it was designed to look like a locker room. This photoshoot was turning into a porn shoot, he thought, a bit hysterically. He prayed he would survive it without exposing himself in every way possible. The situation wasn’t looking too good.

“Each of you at a locker,” the director said, pointing to the metal doors on opposite sides of a wooden bench. When Yibo and Weilong were in place, the director said, “Remember that you’re rivals. Look at each other with suspicion, as though you’re both fighting to be captain of the team. And of course, feature the clothes.”

Yibo inwardly groaned but took his place in front of his locker and opened it. With one hand on the door, he bent forward and placed the other on his hip, holding back the robe so it showed off his swimming trunks and most of his body while still showcasing the robe. Legs straight, back slightly arched, he turned to look back over his shoulder.

Weilong had taken a different approach. He was standing upright, one booted foot on the bench, arms crossed, hips thrust slightly forward so that both pieces of his incongruous outfit were on full display. The problem was that it left him standing there facing Yibo in his bent over position as though Weilong were deciding whether to act on what Yibo was offering.

Yibo was grateful for the heavy makeup which hid his blush, though he feared the back of his neck and his ears were red. They’d need to be color corrected in post, for sure. He began to straighten up, but the photographer murmured, “No, keep it. Just don’t make it too sexual.”

 _Don’t make it too sexual. Try telling Weilong that._ Yibo didn’t have to fake the glare he sent the younger man’s way when he continued to look Yibo over like a piece of meat. Was that the best pose Weilong could come up with? No wonder Yibo outshone him on every other cover.

The photographer took several dozen shots while the director suggested more poses. Yibo began to feel the heat pouring off the lights. That, or Weilong himself was making him sweat. Yibo couldn’t be certain which was which. He was getting worked up, his dignity spared only because of the flimsy robe.

“Let’s put you boys in a fight,” the director murmured.

Weilong looked over at the man while making no effort to disguise his disapproval of the suggestion. Yibo mentally thanked him for that. Yibo wasn’t the type to argue on any job, no matter how demeaning.

“Not an actual fight,” the director hastened to explain. “Something like Yibo—you hold Weilong pinned to the locker with a hand in the center of his chest. Maybe hold a raised fist like you’re about to strike him. Something like that.”

 _Something like that_. It left a lot of leeway and room for interpretation. Unfortunately in Yibo’s current state of mind, every interpretation was sexually suggestive. Nonetheless, ever obedient, he took up the pose.

Weilong’s skin was hot beneath his palm. Yibo could feel his heartbeat and wasn’t sure if he liked that it was racing. He curled his fingers slightly, fingertips pressing into skin, and raised his other hand in a fist, careful not to let the shadow of it fall over Weilong’s face. Yibo had to look up slightly to meet his eyes— _why is every guy taller than me? I’m not short_ —but it was worth the effort. Weilong looked down at him with a quiet steadiness that, paradoxically, made Yibo feel as though he were tilting.

He understood Weilong now: he wasn’t shy like Yibo had assumed from the media coverage of him. Weilong was simply quiet. He held himself back. Always. And what he held back as Yibo pretended to threaten him suggested that Yibo could find himself with his back against the lockers and not minding at all.

Yibo couldn’t continue the shoot with a hard-on, which he was in danger of sprouting. So he focused on one of Weilong’s lush eyebrows as he went through an array of poses. To the camera, he was staring directly into Weilong’s eyes. But Yibo would have creamed his swim trunks if he had. Weilong’s unwavering gaze was like a palm running over his body.

They shot more poses with their positions reversed, with Weilong being the aggressor, though Yibo was allowed to stand his ground and not collapse against the lockers as he feared he might do if Weilong pushed him there. With a fistful of ostrich feathers, the taller actor pretended to pull Yibo toward him. Inspiration struck and Yibo raised one knee and pressed it carefully into Weilong’s groin as though he were fighting back.

It was a provocative pose. Yibo wasn’t convinced the magazine would keep it. He didn’t care either way. What mattered to him was the feel of the warm, heavy weight resting against his knee. Only the nylon of the Speedo separated his knee from touching Weilong’s dick. But the fabric was thin. Yibo realized he could feel the ridge surrounding the tip of Weilong’s cockhead. Lust jolted his lower body. Yibo quickly dropped his foot to the floor.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

Weilong startled him by taking hold of his wrist and raising it above his head, stretching Yibo to his tiptoes.

“Not a problem,” Weilong said with a smile.

Pulled taut, his robe caught in Weilong’s other hand, Yibo turned his face away as the swim trunks he wore began to grow tight. The camera clicked.

He vowed to never again do a swimwear shoot.

The odd tension between them came to a merciful conclusion several minutes later when the director called it quits. Yibo had endured over a hundred photoshoots in his life and never had he been more grateful to escape from one. After a makeup and hair change for anxiety-free headshots, Yibo and Weilong were seated for a dual interview.

“This should be good,” Yibo muttered to himself. He yawned.

“We’ll get through it.” Weilong looked a thousand times more optimistic than Yibo felt. “Feel free to take a nap. I’ll answer for you.”

Yibo laughed despite himself. “Your answers would be better than mine.”

“No, mine won’t be nearly as interesting. I don’t have the cool hobbies that you do.”

“But you’re into skateboarding,” Yibo said cautiously. It was something that had bolstered his initial interest in the other man.

Weilong nodded. “We have that in common. Among a few other things.”

Yibo refused to speculate on what those things could be. He doubted Weilong was anything like him.

The interviewer sat down in the chair before them. She smiled broadly at them, undaunted by Yibo’s flat stare.

“I have a handful of questions for you,” she told them. “I promise to make this as quick and painless as possible. It’s very late and I’m sure you both could use some sleep.”

Yibo checked his watch and was depressed to see that it was nearly five in the morning.

“How do you both feel about being rising stars in your industry?” the woman asked.

Yibo smirked without humor. “Feels like tomorrow you’ll be asking this of somebody else.”

Weilong snickered before ducking his head. After a moment he looked up, straight-faced. “It’s exciting. I hope it continues. There’s a lot I’d like to accomplish.”

The interviewer nodded. “Are you interested in creating music like Wang Yibo?”

Weilong smiled. “There’s no way I could compare with his idol career.”

“Yibo, you really have had a long, successful career. Do you have advice for newcomers like Weilong and others?”

Conscious of Weilong’s dark gaze on the side of his face, Yibo shrugged. “Try your hardest. Don’t give up. Don’t believe the hype.”

Weilong inclined his head. “The best advice I could receive. Thank you, Wang Laoshi.”

 _No_ , Yibo thought as he chewed on his bottom lip, _I don’t want to be your teacher, Weilong. You’d be shocked by what I do want from you._

The intrusive thought was an unwelcome one and brought a flush to his skin. He had no business lusting after a straight man. He’d walked that road already. He knew better than to retrace his steps.

The rest of the questions were as boring and tedious as Yibo had expected. He answered bluntly and he was convinced he would have driven the interviewer to tears were it not for Weilong lifting the mood with his charming, soft-spoken answers and occasional smiles.

“Final question,” the interviewer said, looking as relieved as Yibo felt. “What makes the perfect girlfriend?”

Yibo wanted to leap off a bridge. “Someone who lives their own life,” he muttered. “Lets me live mine.”

The interviewer looked pained by the less than romantic answer. She turned hopefully to Weilong. “And for you? What’s your ideal girlfriend like?”

Weilong laughed bashfully. Yibo watched him, wondering if he was the only person who saw through the act. Or maybe, since Yibo was unwilling to play the fan game, he felt suspicious of those who appeared comfortable doing it.

“Someone thoughtful and kind,” Weilong answered as he studied his hands in his lap. “Someone who’s still a mystery. I want to learn more about them every day.”

“A girl who’s a challenge?” the interview asked with a little giggle. 

Yibo would have rolled his eyes if he possessed more energy. _Why are women always giggling around him?_

“Maybe I do like it when they play hard to get,” Weilong admitted. He smiled boyishly and looked up at her through the fall of his bangs.

“Are we done?” Yibo asked, already standing up.

The woman gaped. “Uh, yes. Thank you for your time.”

Yibo thanked her and bowed to her. He’d already thanked the rest of the crew so he headed directly for the dressing room where he’d left his street clothes.

“It’s funny hearing you interviewed in person.” Weilong walked up and began unbuttoning the shirt they’d put on him for the headshots. “You’re even ruder than you come across on paper.”

“Was I too rude?” Yibo asked worriedly. He tried to maintain a good working relationship with magazines. He couldn’t afford to burn bridges just because he was exhausted. He nibbled on his lip. “Perhaps I should apologize to her.”

Weilong waved off his concern. “No, you were no worse than other times.”

Yibo stared at him for a second before snorting. He tugged his own shirt off and over his head. “That describes me well: no worse than other times.”

“Actually, that doesn’t describe you at all.” Weilong caught his eye, something in his expression stilling Yibo’s hands on the waistband of the pants he’d been about to remove.

“Then how would you describe me?” Yibo asked, stirred by dread and curiosity.

Weilong shook his head, dislodging a lock of hair to hang over one eye. “You’re hard to get.”

Yibo stepped out of his pants quickly and dragged on his jeans. He slapped his baseball cap over his hair.

“Have a good night,” he mumbled, already turning away.

“Mind if I WeChat you?”

He couldn’t look back. “Go ahead if you want to.”

He didn’t wait for the other man’s response and left the studio in long strides. As Yibo climbed into his car hire, one of Weilong’s answers to the interviewer looped through his head:

_Maybe I do like it when they play hard to get._


	2. Chapter 2

Yibo sometimes questioned whether he was schizophrenic. When he was tired or impatient, he became curt and uninterested in playing nicely with others no matter how important they were. When he’d gotten a good night’s rest his smiles and laughter came easily and often for reasons that only a silly teenager would appreciate. At other times he felt shy and preferred to concede to others in all things. Still other times he was ruthlessly competitive and driven. 

He didn’t understand how such disparate personalities could co-exist within him. It probably contributed to his small circle of friends. Those who truly knew him didn’t mind his personality switches. Those who didn’t know him and didn’t like him had met his cold and cranky persona.

Two weeks after the YOUTH! photoshoot found him still harboring regret that the worst version of himself had been on display that night. Difficult schedules shouldn’t excuse bad behavior. Working beside someone he found mysterious and attractive shouldn’t turn him defensive. He’d barely spoken to Song Weilong during the photoshoot even though he’d had ample opportunity to do so. Yibo had pretty much ignored him and it wouldn’t surprise him if Weilong thought he was arrogant or a dud or something equally negative. 

It shouldn’t matter whether Weilong’s opinion of him was low after that night. But it did, because of what Weilong had said. _Maybe I do like it when they play hard to get._

There were so many ways to interpret that comment when combined with how Weilong had described him. Yibo had considered them all. Was he reading into it? Was he once again allowing delusion to cloud his judgment? Or was there something there?

He really needed to know, because Weilong had just sent him a friend request.

Seated on the floor of his apartment and working on a Lego motorcycle set in a rare break from work, Yibo stared at the notification on his phone in disbelief. He wanted it to be real and yet he didn’t. Here was a second chance to make a better impression, except he didn’t trust his own motives. He probably wouldn’t work again with Weilong for months, if not years. Going forward, if Weilong became more popular, the two of them would compete for jobs and endorsement deals. Becoming friends wouldn’t benefit Yibo professionally.

He still wanted it. He was afraid to face the reason why, so he didn’t. He picked up his phone and tried to be calm as he accepted the request and messaged back.

> Weilong: Hi, again.  
>  Yibo: Hi, yourself.  
>  Weilong: Hey. You said it’s okay if I contact you.  
>  Yibo: It’s okay. Wouldn’t have said so if it wasn’t.  
>  Weilong: Great.  
> 

Yibo flipped a Lego piece over and over as he waited for Weilong to finish typing.

> Weilong: Are you working right now?  
>  Yibo: No. I’m at home. You?  
>  Weilong: In Beijing. Just finished a photoshoot.

Weilong was in the city. Yibo’s heart began to race. Again, he was torn by conflicting emotions: excitement over what could be and the fear that he was setting himself up for another painful crash. He wanted to type something that would indicate he was available, but he forced himself not to. He’d been assertive in love only once in his life and he couldn’t bear to do it again.

> Weilong: You live in Beijing, don’t you?

Yibo let out a noisy breath. His heartbeat beat so hard it actually caused him discomfort.

> Yibo: I do.

He closed his eyes and waited. He couldn’t look, otherwise he’d break and write something he would regret. After he’d counted to ten, he cracked his eyes open.

> Weilong: Interested in catching dinner with me? I don’t know the city that well.

Yibo’s thumbs moved jerkily over the phone keyboard, robbed of their usual flexibility.

> Yibo: Sure. Which hotel are you at? We can go someplace close to you.

Weilong gave him the name of a nice hotel in the business/embassy district. Yibo thought quickly and suggested a place and a time for them to meet there.

> Weilong: Great. See you soon.  
>  Yibo: See you.

He hadn’t sounded desperate had he? He reviewed their conversation and was marginally reassured that he’d come across as a friend who was open for a meal and conversation. That wasn’t romantic, was it? Besides, they still weren’t really friends.

Maybe that would change after tonight.

“Calm yourself, Yibo,” he said as he jumped up to shower and change. “Be cool. You know how to be cool.”

The problem was that he didn’t really want to be cool, he wanted to be himself, which meant playful, inquisitive, excitable—things that should be saved for close friends. Wang Han had warned him years ago that being innocent was a wonderful gift, but it opened Yibo to people who’d take advantage of him. He needed to be careful. He vowed to find a way to walk the line between his normal self and his professional self tonight.

After tearing through his wardrobe, he settled on a nice pair of jeans and a dark blue designer hoodie. It was casual, but because both pieces were quality, he trusted that he didn’t look sloppy. Most importantly, he hoped that he didn’t look like he’d put too much thought or effort into what he wore even though he had. After a debate, he added a light swipe of clear lipgloss before heading out on his motorcycle.

The restaurant he’d chosen was popular with ex-pats and embassy workers, so the chances of them being recognized were lower than elsewhere. Also, it was a casual seafood and noodle restaurant that relied more on good tasting food than ambiance to win over clientele, so the lighting was dim thanks to cheap string lights that did a poor job of illuminating the corners of the room. Yibo intended to request one of the tables in those corners but Weilong was already there and had beat him to it. He waved Yibo over from within the shadows.

Even in the dim lighting, Weilong was strikingly handsome. Yibo’s heart lurched at the reality that this man had invited him to dinner. He kept his head down as he hurried through the restaurant to join him. No one seemed to pay them any mind and he felt confident that they wouldn’t be disturbed.

“You picked the table I would have,” Yibo said as he sat down with his back to the other diners. He set his helmet on one of the empty chairs.

“Seemed the best choice for us.” 

Weilong was dressed up. Yibo told himself not to make a big deal out of it—it was doubtful Weilong had dressed up for _him_ —but whether the outfit was a gift from the photoshoot or Weilong had taken care with his appearance, the effect was the same. Yibo discreetly checked him out and liked what he saw. The black blazer over a dark red shirt and black pants matured Weilong, making him appear to be Yibo’s age or older. 

Clothes could only do so much to contribute to that illusion, though. Yibo chalked it up to Weilong’s stillness and quiet aura. He wasn’t fidgety or hyper. _Not,_ Yibo thought with amusement, _like me._

“What’s so funny?” Weilong asked with a small, questioning smile.

Yibo grinned and shrugged. “Nothing. Just thinking. You and I—we could be reversed if someone didn’t know us. They’d think I’m younger than you.”

Weilong sighed good-naturedly. “No one ever believes I was born in 1999. I guess that’s a good thing. I get more work if people believe I’m older.”

“Being older isn’t a bad thing. I don’t spend much time with people younger than me.”

“That’s interesting. Why not?”

“I don’t know, really. I’ve just always been the youngest of every group I’ve been a part of. I think I’ve grown used to it. It feels like the norm for me.”

“Because you’re an overachiever,” Weilong suggested, “and it pushes you into the company of more accomplished people, who will tend to be older than you.”

Yibo smiled a bit shyly. “Just how things worked out.”

Weilong leaned back, legs spread, hands tucked into his pants pockets. It could have been a photoshoot pose, but Yibo didn’t get the feeling that Weilong was consciously presenting himself. Though subconsciously…

_Stop hoping and just enjoy the company, Yibo._

“What were you doing when I called?” Weilong asked while Yibo looked over a menu he was already familiar with.

He didn’t hesitate to reply, “Working on a Lego set.”

As he’d hoped, Weilong didn’t scoff at the information. “You and Joseph—you guys like your Legos.”

“I haven’t seen him in a while,” Yibo said, referencing another of the little brothers from Day Day Up whom Yibo had beat out to become MC.

“Me, neither. He seems to be doing alright. Nothing like you.”

“Or you,” Yibo countered, daring to hold Weilong’s gaze. It was like making the decision to grab a fistful of fire. It took courage and a certain amount of recklessness. Weilong’s stare was no joke. “Are you ready for this level of fame?”

Weilong shrugged his broad shoulders. “We’ll see. All I can do is try to remain who I am. Like you do. You’ve handled it better than anyone.”

Yibo had to look away beneath what felt like a steady stream of compliments. “Maybe. It’s not easy. It helps to have other interests. I’m not caught up in the pressure that surrounds a new single or a new show. If it fails, I have something else to fall back on.”

“You’re a racer.”

The way Weilong said it made it sound sexy, as though Yibo himself were the embodiment of speed.

“Are you into that?” Yibo asked hopefully. He loved to talk about motorcycles.

“I’m into you being a racer,” Weilong replied with a quick smile. Slouched as he was, he looked sultry within the shadows. “Tells me a lot about you.”

The waitress hadn’t come by yet. Yibo didn’t care if she ever came by and he and Weilong sat here without food for hours.

“Last time I asked you to describe me,” Yibo began, knowing he was taking a huge risk, “you said I was hard to get. My racing told you that?”

“Maybe a little. But I was referring to something else that night.” Weilong took his hands out of his pockets and leaned forward. “What’s good here?”

Though disappointed that he hadn’t gotten a full answer, Yibo didn’t let it show. “I like the noodles.”

He mentioned a few dishes. Weilong ended up ordering the same thing Yibo did when the waitress came around. Since Yibo was riding his bike, he ordered a soda. Weilong went with a glass of white wine. They sat staring at each other for several seconds with their beverages before Yibo blurted the first thing to come to mind.

“I wasn’t sure you’d ever want to hang out.” He motioned vaguely at himself. “I wasn’t in the best mood when we worked together last time. I’m sorry about that.”

“I could tell you were tired that night. I gave you a pass.” Weilong grinned when Yibo flashed a mock glare at him. “Seriously, though, you were fine. I’m not the sunniest person, either. I half-expected you to turn me down tonight.”

“I was hungry.”

Weilong laughed. It made his eyes squeeze shut endearingly to bring out his boyish good looks. “I guess I should feel offended, but I’m glad you came.”

“Me, too. It’s nice to be on break, but I don’t like to be by myself.”

“I don’t mind it.” Weilong tilted his head thoughtfully. “As everyone knows, I’m not much of a talker, so conversation in groups is difficult for me.”

“I can babble if I’m with the right people,” Yibo said with a laugh. “It takes time for me to warm up with everyone else.”

“I’m always cool,” Weilong said, smiling at his double meaning.

Yibo smirked. “Be careful with that. Once someone labels you cold, you’ll never shake it off. Take it from me.”

“It’s funny, isn’t it? Everyone’s seen you on DDU. No offense, but you sometimes act very childishly. And yet they still say you’re aloof and unapproachable.”

“Well, I am unapproachable to many. People don’t bother to try, and so they don’t get to know me.”

“I think I’d still approach you even if I didn’t already know the true you from DDU,” Weilong said. “But knowing you from back then and seeing you now—it’s easy to get confused. I like it.”

Yibo laughed and studied the younger man, checking him for seriousness. “Why would you like being confused?”

“I like complicated things.”

Yibo thought for a moment. “’Someone who’s still a mystery. I want to learn more about them every day,’” he quoted Weilong’s answer from the photoshoot. “You were being truthful.”

“I admit I often tell fans what they want to hear, but I wasn’t lying when I said that.”

“Good luck finding a girl like that,” Yibo said casually.

“Good luck finding a girl willing to live her life and let you live yours,” Weilong quoted back to him with a knowing smile.

Yibo held his breath. He released it along with his restraint. “Then I guess we shouldn’t date.”

“Not girls, anyway.”

Weilong smiled back serenely in the face of Yibo’s shock. With terrible timing, the waitress appeared with their food.

Yibo bent over his meal and quickly filled his mouth with noodles so he wouldn’t say anything reckless. He wanted to blurt out terrible things, wanted to show his cards in hopes that Weilong would show his. But he’d done it before with disastrous results. The scar still burned, making him gun-shy.

 _You say all the time in interviews about needing courage to live your life, yet when it matters most to you, you can’t summon a single drop._

But the chiding inner voice couldn’t move him. He was too afraid.

He and Weilong were silent as they ate. Probably other people would have found it strange or awkward, but as the silence stretched it allowed Yibo to settle down and appreciate his meal. It was refreshing to not have to scramble for a topic and simply enjoy the moment.

By the time he finished his bowl, Yibo was more relaxed than when he’d arrived. If he and Weilong parted ways with a handshake, Yibo would still deem the dinner a success and a good use of his time.

After their bowls were cleared, though, the tension began to creep in, subtly but surely, powered by Weilong’s dark bedroom eyes. Yibo stole glances at him, admiring his attractiveness, intrigued by his calm center. Though it was dangerous, Yibo tried to imagine him in bed—then had to quickly end that line of thinking when his cock twitched with enthusiasm.

A thought for later, he promised himself.

“Thank you for the suggestion,” Weilong said, finally breaking the silence. “I enjoyed my meal.”

“The other dishes are good, too. You should try them next time you’re in Beijing.”

“If you’re available again, I will.”

Yibo willed himself to be strong. Now was not the time to blow it. The evening was about to end—

“During the interview I called you Wang Laoshi. You didn’t like it.”

—or perhaps not.

Yibo cursed his reddening cheeks. “That’s because I don’t want to be your teacher.”

Weilong nodded as he stared at his wineglass. “That’s good.”

Yibo's nerves could no longer stand Weilong’s enigmatic words. “Why is it good?” he pressed. 

Weilong lifted his gaze. “Because I’m an awful student. It’s amazing I’ve been able to succeed as an actor. I’m normally resistant to taking direction.”

“You wouldn’t have made it through idol training, then,” Yibo mumbled. It wasn’t really what he wanted to say, but he was too afraid to speak his mind.

“I’m not like you,” Weilong agreed. He picked up the glass and drained the last of its contents. “I’d struggle to be that obedient. But I appreciate it very much in others.”

Yibo rubbed a stain on the tablecloth with his fingers, his anxiety climbing. Was he only hearing what he wanted to? Were they having one conversation but he was imagining a second?

“What about you, Yibo? You don’t like to be the teacher, but does that mean you prefer to be the student?”

“I’ve always been a student,” he heard himself say, as if from far away. Like a ghostly bystander, he saw himself staring down at the tablecloth he was rubbing while Weilong leaned forward to lean on one forearm. Yibo watched Weilong extend his arm until his fingers rested only an inch from Yibo’s restless ones. “I take direction well,” Yibo said, while every cell in his body threatened to explode.

“You’re able to learn a dance routine in an hour, or after watching it once.”

Yibo found the strength to look up. “I’m not talking about dancing.”

Weilong patted his fingers. “I know.” 

He turned in his seat and signaled to their waitress for the bill. “Get your helmet, Yibo. I’ll meet you at your bike after I pay this.”

Yibo hesitated. Weilong watched him, waiting with apparently endless patience for him to make a decision.

_Crash and burn a second time, Yibo. You’re a racer. It comes with the territory._

He grabbed his helmet and walked out of the restaurant, each step trailing the fire of Song Weilong’s gaze.


	3. Chapter 3

He nearly rode off alone. The temptation was fierce to escape and pretend that tonight hadn’t happened. Weilong’s opinion of him would plummet into the depths, but at least Yibo would avoid getting hurt.

He imagined it: riding off and going home. Playing with his Lego set for a little while before falling asleep, mentally and emotionally unbruised. The fantasy looped through his head until the moment Weilong emerged from the restaurant and Yibo realized it was too late to leave. And maybe he’d planned it that way.

“I don’t have a second helmet,” Yibo pointed out in one last, flailing attempt to wiggle off the hook. “You should take it, but I’m not sure it’ll fit you.”

“Keep it. You’ll be responsible for keeping us both alive. You’re more important.”

Yibo’s fingers tightened around the smooth fiberglass. “Have you ridden on the back of a bike before?”

Weilong nodded. “Twice.”

Yibo hid his surprise and approval. At least the chances of him literally crashing and burning tonight had reduced.

He didn’t pull his helmet on yet, though. “Where are we…”

Weilong’s hands were in his trouser pockets again as he looked up at the starry sky. “I have my hotel room for the night. I’d prefer not to use it, though.”

Oh. He wanted to go to Yibo’s, where it would be more difficult to push him out and where Yibo would be laid bare in more than the physical sense. It was sort of presumptuous, Yibo thought, and yet he liked it. It hinted that this might not be a cheap hookup, even though it most definitely was. Weilong would disappear in the morning, taking Yibo’s secrets and dignity with him…

“You’re thinking hard,” Weilong murmured, no longer admiring the sky. “We can go to the ho—”

“My place is better,” Yibo blurted. He jerked the helmet over his head, the action closing the topic in his mind. “Climb on.”

Weilong fit well behind him. He didn’t hug Yibo tentatively as a newbie would. His grip was firm around Yibo’s abdomen, probably due to his comfort with riding a bike. His body was warm along Yibo’s back and hips.

_Here we go._

He drove slower than he normally would, wanting to be extra careful with an unhelmeted passenger behind him. He wondered if Weilong was disappointed by the caution, if his attraction to Yibo was based on an image of him as a bad boy. He’d soon find out. About twenty minutes later, Yibo pulled into the garage of his complex.

He led Weilong upstairs to his unit without saying a word. Just as while they were eating, the lack of conversation didn’t feel unnatural. It wasn’t until Yibo let them inside and closed the door behind him that the import of Weilong’s presence in his home settled fully upon him.

“Very impressive,” the younger man said as he slowly walked around Yibo’s living room. “You have an incredible collection.”

There was a lot to look at. Yibo displayed everything he loved, so there were helmets and Lego sets and toy figurines and gifts from fan clubs—lots of ‘stuff’ that made him feel as though he had company.

“Tell me about these,” Weilong said, pointing at the two shelves of helmets. “There must be a reason you have so many. Do they serve different purposes?”

Yibo tried to remain calm, then said to hell with it. The only time he got to talk about his equipment was when he forced the conversation on his friends. Weilong didn’t need to fake interest, but he had asked, so maybe he was genuinely interested. Yibo hoped he was as he eagerly jumped into a mini-lecture about his helmets.

It was probably fifteen or so minutes later that he surfaced and realized how long he’d been talking at Weilong.

“Ah, sorry,” he said abruptly as he set down the helmet he’d been using as an example. “I got carried away.”

Weilong shook his head as he studied the features that Yibo had pointed out. “I learned something new.” He smiled. “I feel smarter now.”

Yibo rubbed his hands on his jeans. “Anyway, I could talk for hours about this, but you shouldn’t let me.”

Weilong slid his gaze over. “Why not?”

“I’ll drive you crazy with it.”

“I doubt that,” Weilong said lightly, but he seemed to sense that Yibo was uncomfortable and moved away from the helmets to admire the skateboard decks on the wall. “These I know more about. You and I should visit a park someday. You can teach me your moves.” Then he smiled, a little wryly. “Assuming you don’t mind being the teacher for an afternoon.”

“I wouldn’t mind when it comes to that, though I’m still learning, too.”

“Great. We can learn together.”

Yibo ran his eyes over Weilong as the younger man admired his collection. Everything was going well. He was growing to like Weilong more and more. Weilong enjoyed the same hobbies that he did. He didn’t find Yibo tedious or childish. And he was handsome. Very handsome. Yibo’s gaze dipped lower, taking in all of Weilong. He was so tall. His hands were big. When Yibo raised his eyes again, Weilong was staring back.

“Where’s your bedroom?” Weilong asked quietly.

Yibo clasped an arm across his body. “That quick?”

Weilong frowned and his intensity seemed to dial down. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to push.” He sighed. “The way you get excited about motorcycles—I get excited about you.”

“Really?” Yibo didn’t mean to sound so incredulous, but Weilong’s honesty was a tough pill to swallow after his last experience with a potential lover.

“You must be joking.” Weilong gave him a considering look when Yibo only stared back. “I know you’re not doing any of this deliberately, but…it’s working.” Weilong chuckled to himself and muttered, “I may be in over my head.”

He ran a hand through his thick hair as he walked away from Yibo. Yibo sensed that he needed space, so he hung back as Weilong studied his shelf of action figures. While Weilong was there, he looked down at something near his feet.

“You’ve been in the mountains lately?”

When Yibo saw what he was referring to, his heart skipped a beat, but for the wrong reason.

“No, I had hoped to, but plans fell through.”

Weilong bent and picked up Yibo’s snowboard, which he’d left propped against the wall instead of returning to his closet where he usually kept it. A misguided hope had lured him to leave it out. _Just in case Xiao Zhan changes his mind._ But he regretted it now. He wanted to grab it and chuck it into the dark. He enjoyed snowboarding, but the thought of it recently only depressed him.

“Next time you want to make plans, call me.” Weilong set the board down carefully and kept his back to Yibo as he returned to perusing the shelves. “I won’t blow you off like he did.”

It had been a mistake to bring Weilong here, Yibo decided. Weilong was too observant and apparently he was very aware of Yibo’s social life. A stone formed in his gut as Weilong moved along the shelves and paused in front of a famed photograph.

“It was a gift from Xuan Lu,” Yibo said hastily. “She gave all the main cast framed photos of our characters when we finished filming.”

Weilong rocked back on his heels, hands in his pockets as he studied the photo of Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. “You and he had great chemistry,” he murmured. Yibo wished he could see his face because his tone gave away nothing. “Everyone believes you two were in love.”

Yibo listened to the ticking of his Lego clocktower set.

“Sometimes film chemistry doesn’t matter,” he finally managed to say. He was so uncomfortable his skin itched as though he’d developed a rash. “I’ve had negative chemistry with a co-star before and the final product was still okay.”

“I can’t imagine that.”

“It’s true. We weren’t natural together.”

“But that didn’t happen with Xiao Zhan.” Weilong looked back over his shoulder. “Did it?”

Yibo needed them to talk about anyone or anything else. He felt lost in his own apartment and defensive about a relationship that hadn’t gone further than friendship despite his best misguided efforts. He was over Xiao Zhan. Xiao Zhan was straight, would always be straight.

But Yibo would always be gay, and he was acutely aware of that as he reached past Weilong to turn the frame around to face the wall.

“It doesn’t—he doesn’t matter,” he muttered as Weilong stepped away, leaving Yibo alone at the shelf, staring at the back of the frame. “I was foolish enough to believe that I would never find anyone better. I wasted a lot of time. I tortured myself with self-hate. He was kind and didn’t hold my feelings against me, but it hurts to think about him, and I think that will be true for a long time.” 

“People compare me to him.” Weilong said from behind him. He sounded tired, as though it were a subject that had beaten him down. “Imagine having fans run up to you with excitement, only to become disappointed when they see that you’re not him.” He sighed. “I don’t wish that experience on anyone.”

“That’s terrible,” Yibo whispered.

“I look forward to the day it no longer happens. If it ever does.”

“I’m sorry.” Yibo’s apology was genuine, not mere lip service. He was one of those people who’d compared the two men and initially been excited by their resemblance. Now that he knew Weilong better, that resemblance was superficial at best. Yibo could list a myriad of ways in which Weilong was nothing like Xiao Zhan and he _liked_ those differences. “You’re right that it’ll end soon. I know it will. You’re distinct. You’re handsome and charming in your own way.”

“Am I?” Weilong moved up behind him, hands on Yibo’s hips, his lips at his ear. “Is it me, Yibo? Or is it him? Who did you bring back here tonight?”

Yibo’s heart stopped beating. “Weilong—”

“No one knows if you two were together, but the possibility that he had you—" Weilong’s fingers clenched around his hipbones, “—upsets me.”

Arousal rushed through Yibo like a fire. He reached out blindly, bracing his arms on the shelves. 

“He didn’t,” he insisted, gasping as his cock began to swell. “We were only friends.”

Weilong brushed his lips along the curve of Yibo’s ear. His tongue flicked out to play with the two piercings dangling from his lobe. “Am I a replacement?”

Yibo groaned, sorry that this was coming between them. With his heart beating rat-a-tat-tat, he said, “If you were Xiao Zhan, I wouldn’t have brought you here tonight. If you were him, I wouldn’t be thinking the things I’ve thought about. I brought _you_ here, Weilong. No one else.” He reached up with a shaking hand and tipped the frame over, hiding the image of him with Xiao Zhan from sight. “It’s you I want.”

“Thank you,” Weilong whispered.

His hands surged down the front of Yibo’s body, palming down his hips and making his cock leap violently within his underwear. They curled around his inner thighs and tugged his legs apart as Weilong came up hard against him. Yibo gasped as Weilong drove his erection against his ass, finally showing all his cards. Weilong swept his hands back up Yibo’s body, palms running over Yibo’s abdomen and chest all the way up to his collarbones and then they rushed back down again, making Yibo’s entire body feel electrified. He bit his lips as Weilong grabbed him along the thighs again and pulled him up and back, till he was on his tiptoes and could only dangle as Weilong rocked against him.

“Wei-long,” Yibo choked out. He reached back—

“Hands on the shelf,” Weilong whispered into his ear. “You’re letting me touch you.” Yibo whimpered. “You’re letting me do whatever I want to you.”

“Okay,” he whispered back. “Okay.”

He tossed his head back against Weilong’s shoulder as those possessive hands swept ownership over his body again. He felt as though his were caught up in a powerful ocean swell, unable to break free, raised up and dragged down until he felt on the verge of drowning from touch.

He’d never been this passive during sex but he found that he liked it, he liked being played by someone who wasn’t shy to take what they wanted from him. Weilong squeezed Yibo’s pectorals and brushed his thumbs over his nipples. Weilong drove the heels of his hands over Yibo’s hipbones, fingers tortuously close to where Yibo needed them. They dipped between his legs to tease the swollen, throbbing pouch of his balls and then danced, ever so lightly, up the placket of his jeans. Again and again he lifted Yibo onto his toes while grinding into him with the promise of what was to come, what could be. He was riding Yibo, riding him as he had the motorcycle, and Yibo couldn’t wait for the inevitable collision of their bodies.

“I want you so much.” Weilong kissed down the side of his throat. “I’ve never wanted anyone like this.”

Yibo arched his back as much as he could in Weilong’s smothering embrace. “You can have me,” he panted. “Any way you want me.”

Weilong groaned against his throat. “Every way I can get you.”

This time when his hands rode up Yibo’s body they dove beneath his hoodie. Bare skin against bare flesh had Yibo crying out. Weilong’s hands felt superheated, like they were burning him. Yibo didn’t wait—he let go of the shelf to grab the bottom of his hoodie and yank it off over his head. He slapped his hands on the shelf again, shivering as Weilong’s lips ghosted across the top of his now naked spine. A big hand curled briefly around his throat, the touch possessive, before it slid down the center of his body, mapping muscles and bone, to settle on the waistband of his jeans.

“Take these off,” Weilong told him, lips soft against his shoulder. “Everything. I want you naked, Wang Yibo.”

“Yes, gege,” Yibo said. He inhaled sharply when he realized what he’d said out of habit.

Teeth dragged along his trapezius. “It’s okay. I like it.” Weilong’s teeth sank into him, just enough to pull a whine up Yibo’s throat. “Jeans off, didi.”

Trembling, his head full of wild thoughts, Yibo hurried to comply. He kicked his shoes and socks off and fumbled with his jeans. He could hear Weilong dropping clothes to the floor behind him and his cock snapped tight to his groin in anticipation of finally having the body he’d seen at the photoshoot pressed up against him.

And then it was—long limbs and hair-roughened skin and Weilong’s cock which felt a hundred times larger than it had looked in that Speedo, nestling between Yibo’s bare ass cheeks as though it belonged there.

“Please,” Yibo gasped, reaching behind him and palming Weilong’s firm, round ass cheeks. “I need you.”

Weilong groaned as though Yibo’s words were exactly what he’d wanted to hear. He moved away for excruciating seconds and when he returned it was with lube- slick fingers sliding down Yibo’s crease.

“Do you want it here, with you standing?” Weilong asked before kissing Yibo’s hot cheek. Yibo turned his head and tried to catch him for a kiss, but Weilong smiled and moved his lips away. “Tell me.”

It would be hot to be taken in his own living room.

But Yibo wanted more than that.

He spun around, catching Weilong by surprise. It was Yibo’s first look at his face in several minutes and he loved the color dashed along Weilong’s cheekbones and the dark spill of his pupils. His hair fell haphazardly across his forehead and Yibo couldn’t resist carding it back with his fingers before cupping Weilong’s cheek.

“Are you willing to do it face to face?” he asked hopefully.

Something soft and uncertain moved through Weilong’s eyes. Yibo, sadly, understood: Weilong was afraid Yibo was turned on by his resemblance to Xiao Zhan.

“I’ve never had sex face to face,” Yibo admitted, even though he feared it made him come across as trashy, like he was only into quick and faceless sex with guys he didn’t care about. There was _some_ truth to it, but it wasn’t the whole story. “I don’t like showing myself. But with you—I don’t know how to explain it—I feel like you won’t use it against me.”

Weilong frowned. “How would I use it against you?”

“The kind of guys I’m attracted to, they fit a certain type. But a lot of them are…kind of mean. Or, not mean, but—”

“They’re dominating assholes,” Weilong cut in blandly.

Yibo flushed. “I guess that’s one way of putting it.” He dragged his thumb across Weilong’s cheekbone. “You seem different.”

Weilong covered his hand with his. “I am different. I’ve been infatuated with you since we were little brothers on DDU. I didn’t make a move then because I could tell you were focused on your career. You didn’t need a boyfriend then. Not even if it were me.”

Yibo stared. It was Weilong’s turn to color.

“Boyfriend?” Yibo whispered.

He expected Weilong to play it off, but after a deep breath, Weilong locked eyes with him. “If you decide you like me enough, yes. I didn’t come here for one night, Yibo. Though if that’s all I can have, I’ll take it. I—” 

Yibo crushed their mouths together. He needed to be as close to Weilong as he could, needed to climb inside him and show him that they could fit together and that Yibo trusted him. With a groan, Weilong returned the kiss with equal fervor, his tongue sliding hotly against Yibo’s. Weilong leaned down and picked him up by the thighs. Wrapping his legs around Weilong’s waist brought their cocks together and Yibo moaned and kissed him more fiercely as he rolled his hips for friction.

“Bedroom,” Weilong breathed against his lips.

“Down the hall. Second to last,” Yibo panted before filling Weilong’s mouth with his tongue again.

He was impressed by Weilong’s strength as the younger man carried him to his room. It turned him on, too, so that he was humping Weilong as the two of them finally fell onto Yibo’s bed.

“You’re an animal,” Weilong said against his mouth, though he smiled after saying it. “I didn’t expect that with how cute you are.”

“Call me sexy,” Yibo growled as he attacked Weilong’s neck with kisses. “Not cute.”

Weilong drove his hips against Yibo’s, shoving the breath from him. “I’ll call you what I want to call you and you’ll like it.”

Yibo moaned and didn’t argue as Weilong physically hiked him up the bed before settling between his legs again.

“I left the lube in the living room,” Weilong said. He licked a stripe up Yibo’s throat. “Where do you keep yours?”

Yibo flopped a hand to the side. “Nightstand,” he gasped as Weilong rocked against him, driving their cocks together. “I can’t believe you brought lube with you.”

“I had my fingers crossed all through dinner,” Weilong said with a small smile.

Yibo didn’t know why the admission affected him so strongly, but it inspired him to come clean, too. “The odds have been in your favor ever since our photoshoot.

Weilong’s eyes went dark. “Don’t move.”

Yibo huffed a laugh and tried to catch his breath while Weilong quickly dug through his nightstand drawer. He found the lube easily enough and soon had coated his fingers with it as he kneeled between Yibo’s legs.

“Look at me,” he ordered softly. 

Yibo fisted his hands, squirmy at the command, but he obeyed as Weilong caressed the smooth skin of his perineum. Weilong pressed the pad of his thumb behind his balls, massaging Yibo through the thin wall of skin. At first Yibo didn’t feel much, but then a weird tingle began to build deep in his body. Still massaging him externally, Weilong carefully eased his middle finger inside. When Yibo was ready, he began to move his finger in and out, coordinating it with the steady pressure from his thumb.

The pressure inside Yibo compounded. It sort of felt like heat, and also a little like he might need to pee. He thought about asking Weilong to stop, but then a second finger eased into him and rubbed across his prostate. The dual touch from inside and outside his body lifted him onto his heels and shoulders. A cry tore from his lips.

“You’re okay, just feel it,” Weilong soothed as he continued to massage him. He slid his free hand up Yibo’s chest and grazed his nipples with his fingertips, coaxing them into hard buds. “You’re good, didi. You’re doing everything right.”

 _Didi_. To be called that by a guy two years his junior was wrong and embarrassing. But that didn’t stop it from also being filthy and sexy and he wanted more of it. He writhed on Weilong’s clever fingers, not restraining himself at all. He wanted Weilong to _see_ how he affected him.

“Gorgeous,” Weilong said as he bent down to brush their noses together. 

Yibo caught him behind the neck and held him in place for a wet, searching kiss. “You are,” he said, “you’re gorgeous. Now get in me, gege.”

Weilong laughed, eyes twinkling. “I like you, Yibo. I like you a lot.”

Shyly, Yibo murmured, “I like you, too, Weilong.”

He could tell Weilong wanted to keep staring into his eyes, that it was an important connection for him. But Yibo was too turned on to endure it for long. He scratched his fingers down Weilong’s chest, fingers catching on a nipple, and smirked when Weilong’s eyes widened and he shuddered.

“I wasn’t joking,” Yibo told him. He pinched Weilong’s nipple. “I want you.”

“Two can play that game.” Weilong crooked his fingers inside Yibo and Yibo was once again seeing stars, his mouth falling open on a cry. Weilong kissed down his arched throat as he stroked Yibo’s prostate gently. “How’s that feel, hmm? Still good?”

“Yes, yes,” Yibo whimpered as he raised his legs and locked his ankles behind Weilong’s hips. “Please. I’m begging you.”

“God, Yibo…” Weilong shut his eyes. 

Yibo leaned up and kissed the underside of his jaw. “Come on, gege,” he whispered. “Please take care of me.”

Weilong opened his eyes and kissed him hard. “Lie back, didi. Grab the headboard.”

Yibo eagerly curled his fingers around the slats in his headboard. He’d had this in mind when he’d purchased the bed set, but this was the first time he was using it for its intended purposes. Weilong was the first guy he’d brought home. That was a fact worth thinking about, but definitely not now with three fingers inside him, stretching him out.

“I’m ready,” he said impatiently.

Weilong smirked and slapped him lightly on the hip. “Calm down. You’ll get what you want.” But Yibo could feel the tremor in Weilong’s thighs as he lifted Yibo’s hips onto them. Weilong leaned forward and guided himself to Yibo’s body. He paused, resting against his entrance, to catch Yibo’s gaze. “Tell me you want me, Yibo.”

“I want you so much it’s killing me to wait,” Yibo replied, dignity thrown out the window.

“Me, too,” Weilong admitted and slowly sank inside him.

The promise of his size was fulfilled. Yibo groaned and concentrated on his breathing as Weilong stretched him to what seemed impossible depths. A slight shift as Weilong got more comfortable had Yibo nearly jackknifing off the bed when Weilong’s cock pushed against his prostate.

“Fuck!”

“Right there, I take it,” Weilong murmured. With his brow furrowed with concentration, he held Yibo’s hips and began to fuck into him.

“Oh, god,” Yibo immediately moaned. Heat burst across his chest and rushed up his throat and into his face.

Weilong felt huge. Whether thrusting in or pulling back, he kept in continuous contact with Yibo’s prostate. Yibo could tell he was going to lose control over himself in a matter of a few minutes. It wasn’t only Weilong’s generous endowment that affected him. Weilong was gorgeous above him with his broad shoulders and tapered waist. His dark eyes and thick eyebrows gave him a rakish and intense air that made Yibo’s heart flutter. He wished he could let go of the headboard to touch Weilong’s flexing abs and the wide expanse of his chest, but Yibo wanted to be good for him. He wanted to show he could obey.

_Because this can’t be the only time. It just can’t._

Weilong adjusted his hold on Yibo’s hips, lifting him up and then bending him in half. Yibo moaned at the confident handling of his body and yelped loudly when the new position made everything inside him feel ten times more intense.

“Oh, god, Weilong,” he gasped, his expression contorting as the pleasure began to climb. “It’s too much.”

Something in Weilong’s expression shifted. He scooted back and dropped Yibo’s hips to the bed so he was no longer propped up by Weilong’s thighs.

“What’s wrong?” Yibo asked worriedly.

Weilong shook his head and lowered himself down, still moving in Yibo, but differently, keeping his hips close to Yibo’s so that the motion was deep and mostly internal. After a few seconds, Yibo understood why he’d shifted. He let his head roll on the pillow and released a soft groan.

“Good, didi,” Weilong whispered.

Yibo shivered, his skin rushing with goosebumps. He was grateful when Weilong adjusted himself so he could reach up to frame Yibo’s face between his big palms. Yibo looked up at him and lost himself in the younger man’s thoughtful gaze. It felt as though Weilong were watching and waiting for the doors in Yibo’s mind to slowly swing open.

They rocked together for a long time, a boat for two on a restless ocean. Weilong kept Yibo’s face cradled between his hands and though it was scarily intimate, Yibo was incapable of pulling his gaze away. He fell into Weilong. There was no one else but him.

And it felt safe. Weilong had him. He held him. Yibo whimpered as the pressure grew too much but Weilong was there to whisper, “It’s okay,” against his damp lips, to lick his lips even wetter while down below, he moved deeper into Yibo’s body. “I’ve got you, didi. I’ve got you.”

Yibo fell apart for him, but that was alright. Weilong held him together, whispered praise and compliments until Yibo felt dizzy with all the conflicting emotions inside him. He’d thought he’d wanted sex from Weilong. He hadn’t realized he could get so much more from him.

The pressure inside suffused his limbs, until his entire body felt like it was comprised of a billion bubbles that were waiting to pop, waiting for Weilong to release him.

“Wang Yibo,” Weilong whispered gently. When a tear inexplicably slid from the corner of Yibo’s eye, Weilong kissed it and murmured, “You can let go now.”

Yibo clenched his eyes shut even as his mouth widened to release sounds he’d never heard from himself before. Weilong rocked him through it, massaging him, pushing everything out of Yibo until he was shaking and shattered and still held safely by Weilong. Yibo felt the wetness against his own belly but all he cared about was the wetness on his face and the wetness of Weilong’s mouth on his as Weilong ground down hard suddenly before shivering in a final release.

The boat slowed. Yibo became aware of the weight of Weilong, of his chest heaving atop his, his breath gusting along Yibo’s sweaty collarbones.

“Stay still,” Weilong told him, so Yibo did, happy to follow his lead, because he couldn’t have summoned the wits to save himself if he’d tried.

His heartrate slowed and his breathing evened out. When he felt a kiss on his temple and another on his cheek, he smiled, almost drunkenly.

“Weilong,” he whispered.

“I’m right here.”

Yibo let go of the headboard. His arms were stiff, his fingers cramped, but he hugged Weilong against him. “Stay with me,” he whispered drowsily.

Weilong nuzzled the side of his neck. “Always, until you tell me to leave.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weilong's big break came in the TV show, Find Yourself, starring opposite Victoria Song.

Weilong sailed down the pavement doing a manual, his tall body jittering precariously as he balanced his skateboard on its back wheels. Just when he seemed to have reached the perfect equilibrium, his wheels hit a crack and sent him flying off the board, long limbs flailing.

“Nooo! You were _so_ close!” Yibo yelled. Weilong hopped up and down in consternation at the missed opportunity while Yibo hooted with laughter.

They were in a complex on the outskirts of Beijing, bathed in the tall shadows of industrial warehouses. There was little car or foot traffic to contend with. It was the last place, perhaps, that fans would expect to find Wang Yibo and Song Weilong skateboarding together. But this was their third trip here in the past month and a half and it had become their place, as grimy and boring as the scenery was. What mattered was the abundance of smooth payment and the occasional slope or drain area to provide some interest—and of course the company.

Still laughing at Weilong’s near wipeout, Yibo pushed off and rode his board down to meet him. They were both dressed like skater boys and Yibo found it easy to forget who they really were to the rest of the world.. Here, it was just him, his board, his bodyguard…and his closest friend.

‘Closest friend’ sounded awkward and paradoxically impersonal, but Yibo was nervous to put a more precise name to what they’d become. Since their first night sleeping together, Weilong and he had kept in constant contact with each other through texts and video calls. Not a day went by that they didn’t communicate in some fashion.

Weilong wasn’t a talkative person, but Yibo had no problem making up the difference. It would have shocked those who didn’t know him and thought him averse to conversation. In fact, when Yibo was comfortable, he could talk for hours about the things that interested him, and since Weilong shared those interests, Yibo was a chatterbox. They’d be on the phone for hours with each other and it would feel like only minutes.

“Pop shove-it!” Weilong called out as Yibo rode up. 

Yibo grinned like a lunatic before bearing down and concentrating on the move. When his speed felt right, he scooped the toe of his back foot under the board and kicked. The board rose up into the air and flipped three hundred and sixty degrees. He nailed the landing with only a little wobble which he quickly corrected. It was his smoothest landing yet.

“Yeah!” he screamed, fists held up in the air. “Did you see that?” he asked in English.

“It was pretty sweet,” Weilong said, grinning boyishly. “Best I’ve ever seen.”

Yibo laughed at him, his cheeks hot. Receiving a compliment from Weilong felt different than receiving it from anyone else. He knew Weilong was teasing, yet there was a sincerity in his voice and in his eyes that Yibo trusted. It made him feel equal parts proud and shy and he loved the feeling. He loved a lot of the things that Weilong made him feel.

“Such a sexy skater,” Weilong said as Yibo rode up, flushed and breathing hard.

“I may know another sexy skater,” Yibo flirted back as he rode in a circle around the younger man. “Look at those long legs!” He whistled. “And those shoulders!” He pressed his palms together in entreaty and lifted his voice. “Oh, Song Weilong, is there any chance you might marry one of your fans?”

Weilong hooked Yibo around the waist, pulling him off his board while Yibo wheezed with laughter. “I said that _one_ time, Wang Yibo,” he growled. “One time.”

“But everyone saw it so that makes it true,” Yibo said, still cackling as he slung his arms behind Weilong’s neck. He leaned against him and tipped his head back so their eyes could meet. “You’ve gotta marry a fan now.”

Weilong smiled as he looked down at him. The bills of their caps touched as he leaned closer, blocking the sunlight from Yibo’s eyes. “I guess I’m stuck.” Weilong looked down at Yibo’s lips. “You know of any sexy fans of mine?”

Yibo pretended to think. “Fans of yours? Nope, don’t know any.” 

“But you’re here.”

Yibo licked his lips as Weilong continued to stare at them. “Who says I’m your fan? Maybe I just like kissing cute guys on skateboards and you happen to be the only one around.”

“You’re gonna kiss me?” Weilong’s eyes darkened. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

He bent down just as a whistle cut through the air.

Weilong jerked his head back, cheeks reddening. “Damn. Sorry.”

He straightened up and released Yibo, who reluctantly lowered his arms from his neck. Yibo glanced to the side at where one of his bodyguards was watching them. The man shook his head at Yibo, his expression regretful. The older man worked for him, but Yibo treated him and his second bodyguard generously and trusted them to look out for more than his physical safety. He just wished sometimes he could ignore their warnings when he went too far in public.

“It’s like we’re being chaperoned,” Weilong said wryly as he looked at the man, too.

Yibo snorted. “That’s because we are.”

Weilong continued studying the bodyguard. “Do you think they report your actions to your agency?”

“No,” Yibo said immediately. “They’re loyal to me. They’re friends. They’ve kept things from Yuehua before for me.” He searched Weilong’s face. “Are you worried?”

“That my agency finds out I’m kissing Wang Yibo?” Weilong shrugged. “It’ll happen one day. I doubt I can stop it.”

Yibo wanted to take his hand. This was an important subject he’d never brought up before.

“And you’re okay with that?” he asked nervously. “Your career could be over.”

“Could.” Weilong tapped his forefinger against the tip of Yibo’s nose. “I can’t stop it if it happens, so I’m not worried about it.”

“You can stop it by preventing it. By avoiding me.”

For a long while, Weilong only looked at him. Yibo couldn’t tell what he was searching for in his face.

“Can’t avoid love, didi,” Weilong said at last.

Yibo opened his mouth, but in the end didn’t know what to say.

“Oh, my god!”

The high-pitched cry jerked them apart better than a pair of bodyguards. A young woman who’d been driving down the street had stopped and lowered her window to gape at them.

“Bo Junyi Xiao!” she squealed.

Yibo wanted to throw up.

“No!” he said firmly and brought his arms up to form an X. He couldn’t bear to look at Weilong, afraid to see his expression. He stepped onto his board. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Wait.”

Alarmed, Yibo turned back to him. Weilong was looking at the woman in the car thoughtfully.

“I’m Song Weilong,” he called out to her. “Xiao Zhan isn’t here. Sorry.”

Yibo grabbed his arm. “What are you doing?” he hissed.

“You’re with me,” Weilong told him calmly. “I want her to know.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Song Weilong? Oh, my god!” the woman screamed, just as excitedly. She raised her phone. “I just watched Find Yourself! So handsome! You and Victoria…oh, my god! I love you two!”

Weilong smiled and gave her a short wave. “Thanks. Have a nice day.”

The woman waved excitedly at him before rolling up the window and obediently driving off.

Yibo struggled to understand what had just happened.

“She took video,” he eventually blurted.

“Yes.” Weilong took Yibo by the shoulders and gently but firmly turned him around and gave him a little push so he’d begin skating. Weilong followed alongside on his own board. “But at least she’ll tag you with the correct person. I hate being mistaken for him.”

“And when fans come up with theories why we’re together?”

Weilong skated past him, his longer legs granting him an advantage. “All they’ll have proof of us is skateboarding. Right now I’m being paired in a relationship with Victoria. Her team and mine will keep up that illusion for another few months. You and I are fine.”

“And people tell me I’m reckless.” Yibo’s gut clenched with admiration and worry. “You’re worse.”

Weilong looked back over his shoulder at him. “Funny. You usually tell me how good I am.”

Yibo felt the look between his legs and cursed as the friction made pushing off from the ground just a little more challenging. But he did love a challenge.

Grimacing, he pushed hard off the pavement so he could zoom past Weilong. “Come on, gege,” he taunted, throwing back a cocky grin. “First one back to the car gets to be on top.”

Weilong smiled. “Even if you’re on top, you won’t be in control.”

“Shit,” Yibo muttered as his problem grew more pronounced. Weilong skated past him and he couldn’t even be mad.

~~~~~

On the way back to Yibo’s place, they tried to behave. But halfway home, Yibo hooked his ankle around Weilong’s and puckered his lips at him when the younger man glanced over. Yibo’s bodyguard was driving and a simple glance in the rearview mirror would expose them, so Yibo was careful. But Weilong beside him was a flame that drew him again and again. His handsome appearance made Yibo’s body ache, but it was his steady, solid personality that helped Yibo let go and be himself. Apparently being himself meant being perpetually horny, because Yibo desperately wanted to reach over and grab the mound in Weilong’s shorts and work a moan or two out of him.

At his apartment, Yibo took both of their boards before letting them inside. He had just set the skateboards on the floor beside the door when Weilong turned around and crowded Yibo against the wood. The back of Yibo’s head hit the door but he hardly cared. His hands flew to Weilong’s hips and gripped.

“I wanted to do this outside,” Weilong told him as he lifted Yibo’s T-shirt and stroked his fingertips over his abs. “Out in the open, where anyone could see us.”

“Including my bodyguard?” Yibo asked as he mirrored his actions, his hands finding Weilong’s warm, bare skin beneath his shirt.

“Anyone.” Weilong leaned down and nuzzled Yibo’s ear. “I want the world to know you’re mine.”

Yibo inhaled sharply when his shirt was abruptly ripped up and over his head. The door felt cold against his spine but he was warmed when Weilong discarded his own shirt and pressed against him.

“Mine,” Weilong repeated as he licked a stripe up the side of Yibo’s neck.

It was an erogenous zone for Yibo and he moaned as he tilted his head to the side. He didn’t resist as Weilong took hold of his wrists and raised them above his head, pinning them high against the door and lifting him onto his toes.

“Wang Yibo belongs to me,” Weilong whispered in between licks and open mouth kisses to Yibo’s throat and jaw. “Say it.”

Yibo’s cock rose up to press against Weilong’s. The thin board shorts they wore allowed him to feel everything and soon he was rolling his hips to increase the friction between them.

“Didn’t know you’re the possessive type,” he panted. He tried tugging his hands free and was thrilled to find that he couldn’t.

“I don’t like many things,” Weilong replied. “But when I do, I don’t let them go.”

Yibo wondered if the encounter with the WangXian fan had fired up Weilong’s jealousy. But then he remembered the times they’d been intimate and the signs had always been there that Weilong hadn’t been fooling around just to fool around.

“It’s dangerous,” Yibo felt obligated to say. “If anyone finds out—”

“I think you know me by now, Yibo.” Weilong looked deep into his eyes. “This career is something I fell into because people thought I was cute. My heart isn’t it. I’m willing to risk it and a whole lot more.”

_For you._

Once upon a time, Yibo would have dropped to his knees to hear such a confession spoken to him by someone else. Now, with Weilong trapping him against the door, Yibo felt the chains of that old desire fall away from him. The message Weilong was sending—Yibo didn’t want it to come from anyone else anymore. He wanted it from this man.

“Wang Yibo belongs to Song Weilong,” he whispered. He hooked a leg around Weilong’s hips to hold him tight. “But only if Song Weilong belongs to Wang Yibo.”

Weilong’s eyes widened before they took on the dark shade of desire. “That was never in question.”

He crushed Yibo’s lips in a firm kiss. Yibo struggled to keep up. He felt like he was being devoured and wanted his own taste. He fought to give as good as he got and it was worth it. Weilong tasted like sunshine and the citrus energy drink they’d shared out in the warehouse district.

Weilong leaned against him, his bare chest pressed hot to Yibo’s. The times that they’d been able to spend the full night together they’d slept naked. The first time, Yibo had woken up embarrassed to find that he’d draped himself across Weilong’s chest. Weilong had cracked an eye open when Yibo tried to move away and wordlessly tugged Yibo back against him. Since then, Yibo had become very familiar with the texture of Weilong’s chest and the smell of his skin.

The comforting smell wafted to his nose now, making him moan and bite at Weilong’s lips. Weilong nipped him back before breaking the kiss.

“Behave for me,” Weilong ordered softly before he crossed Yibo’s wrists and used one hand to keep them pinned to the door. He returned to kissing Yibo as his free hand drifted down his body—tweaking a nipple, dipping into his navel, sliding across his abs—before taking hold of his shorts and yanking them down. 

Having his clothes ripped off was his new favorite kink, Yibo decided as he stepped out of the garment. His buttocks were soft against the door, but his cock was harder than ever as Weilong smoothed his palm over Yibo’s abdomen before dipping his knuckles along the inside of his thigh. Weilong brushed his thumb along Yibo’s cock, driving him crazy.

“Come on,” Yibo urged against his mouth.

“Something you want?” Weilong’s tone was teasing.

Yibo tugged on his bottom lip. “Touch me.”

He gasped as long fingers curled around him and began to loosely stroke. “Like this?”

Yibo tipped his head back against the door, groaning as Weilong’s lips mapped his throat. “Keep going. Harder.”

“You feel good in my hand.” Weilong sucked on his Adam’s apple. “So hard, yet still so soft.”

“I’m not soft,” Yibo said with a breathy laugh. “Anything but soft right now.”

“Maybe not.” Weilong kissed him on the chin before resting his forehead against Yibo’s temple for several seconds. “I can feel you trembling.”

Yibo blushed. “What did you expect?”

“I expect you to tremble when I touch you.”

Weilong’s words brought a shiver out of him. Yibo squirmed in embarrassment.

“I expected that, too,” Weilong whispered. He dragged his tongue along Yibo’s jawline. “You’re very sensitive, Yibo. It’s sexy. Makes me want to tie you down and run my fingers all over you.”

“Oh, god, don’t do that,” Yibo begged. “You’ll kill me.” 

Weilong stroked Yibo’s cock with maddening deliberation, his fingers roped just tightly enough for him to feel the motion, but not nearly enough to get him where he needed to be. “I could make you like it, didi.”

Yibo whimpered, half-afraid and half-hoping Weilong would carry through with his threat.

“Not now, but later,” Weilong murmured. “We should buy the restraints together. Make sure we get ones you like.”

The thought of the two of them shopping for things to tie Yibo down with made him dizzy. “I’d be okay with that.”

“I know you would.”

Weilong seemed to know everything about him, which was unnerving and infuriating and hotter than anything Yibo could think of.

“For a guy who likes to hold me down, you’re not doing a very good job right now,” Yibo challenged as he thrust into Weilong’s loose grip. “Do you expect me to cum from this?”

“No. I expect you to begin dancing. You’re close.” Weilong kissed behind his ear. “Will you dance for me, didi? You’re so good at it.”

A groan of frustration tickled the base of Yibo’s throat but he kept it trapped. “If I dance, will you touch me harder?”

“I’ll think about it,” Weilong breathed into his ear.

“You’re cruel,” Yibo whined.

“You like it when I am.”

Yibo gritted his teeth but he could hardly argue. He _did_ enjoy it when Weilong pushed him like this and forced him to act a little slutty. He couldn’t do it without prompting, but when Weilong made it seem like Yibo had no choice, well, that just made it easier to give in to this other side of him.

He began to undulate against the door. His options were limited with his hands held above his head and Weilong all but breathing the same air, but Yibo was nothing if not creative when it came to manipulating his body. He held Weilong’s gaze, giving him his sultriest look, as he grinded their bodies together. 

When Weilong’s pupils dilated, Yibo smirked and let his tongue slide along his own bottom lip, painting it in moisture. “This get you going, gege?” he taunted.

The hand around his cock tightened, momentarily breaking his concentration. Yibo whimpered and let his eyes flutter shut.

“How about you answer the question instead?” Weilong licked Yibo’s parted lips. “Is this working for you, didi?”

“Yes,” Yibo panted as Weilong stroking him firmly. He tugged at the grip on his wrists, loving that he still couldn’t free himself. He rolled his body sensually, fucking into Weilong’s hand. “This works.” 

Weilong paused to run his palm over and around the head of Yibo’s cock, smearing the moisture that had beaded there and lifting Yibo higher onto his toes. “I could make you cum this way.”

“Yes—”

“But I think I’d like to be selfish.”

Yibo opened his eyes. “Weilong…”

“Will you do something for me?” Weilong whispered.

Yibo didn’t need to think twice. “Anything.”

He was surprised when Weilong released him completely and stepped back a pace. But then Weilong pushed his own shorts off. Once his cock sprang free, Yibo didn’t need any direction.

He slid down the door into a squat. Weilong shuffled forward between his knees, keeping him spread and trapped. Yibo didn’t feel trapped, though. He took hold of Weilong by the base and looked up to meet the younger man’s eyes. He let his hunger show as he guided Weilong into his open mouth.

The groan that Weilong admitted was deep and raised goosebumps across Yibo’s skin. He took a breath and sank forward as far as he could, until short, dark hair tickled the tip of his nose. Weilong tasted of sweat and musk and smelled of the same. Yibo couldn’t get enough of either. He closed his eyes to savor Weilong in his mouth. It was intimate beyond the obvious. Weilong had entrusted the most vulnerable part of himself and Yibo relished the trust. Weilong tensed as Yibo swallowed around him, throat muscles massaging the end of his cock. His hands came up to hold the sides of Yibo’s head and his fingers caressed his scalp. Yibo pulled back and their gazes locked.

“Let me,” Weilong whispered as he feathered his thumbs across Yibo’s cheeks.

Yibo nodded.

With a flicker of a smile, Weilong cradled Yibo’s head and pushed his hips forward.

He went in deep and kept going. Yibo’s head came up against the door. There was no escape as Weilong entered the back of his throat and held there for a few seconds. He withdrew, dragging the taste of him along Yibo’s tongue, before thrusting back in. Yibo moaned around him.

He enjoyed being used by Weilong. Though only twenty, Weilong had an uncanny sense of domination. Or at least, he knew how to dominate Yibo. Yibo had never before been made to feel this weak and come out of the experience wanting more. Weilong’s gentle force convinced him to do nearly anything, and when Weilong praised him for doing it, Yibo wanted to cum instantly.

He emerged from his almost hypnotic submission when Weilong lifted Yibo’s hands above his head. He looked up as Weilong held his wrists to the door, keeping Yibo’s arms extended. The fantasy of being restrained and forced to deepthroat Weilong lit a fire in the deepest, twisted grooves of Yibo’s brain. He thrust uselessly into the air, his cock flushed with need.

“I could cum right now,” Weilong said, his voice low and thick. The light behind his head cast shadows within the contours of his handsome face. “I’d make you swallow every drop.”

Yibo moaned.

“You know what else I could do?”

Yibo blinked up as Weilong’s cock plugged his throat, throbbing with his heartbeat, before sliding back.

“I could leave you aching.”

Yibo moaned in dismay.

Weilong rocked his hips forward, filling Yibo again until he choked as the spongy head dipped deep. Weilong pulled back and waited for Yibo to catch his breath. Then Weilong fed him his cock again.

“I should do it,” Weilong said as he fucked his mouth. “Pretty Wang Yibo, left hard and begging, with a belly full of cum.”

Yibo’s expression contorted as he imagined himself that way. He would do it—he was practically doing it now. The only reason he wasn’t begging was because he was choking on cock. The back of his head bounced off the door as Weilong thrust in a little harder, as though the fantasy excited him, too.

“The only downside,” Weilong went on, “was that I’d be missing out on fucking more than your mouth.” His smile was boyish and wry, in contrast to the filth he was speaking and inflicting on Yibo down below. “I do love fucking you, didi. It’s one of my favorite activities in life.”

Yibo fluttered his damp lashes and spread his fingers wide. 

“Do you like it when I fuck you, Yibo?” Weilong stroked his thumbs along Yibo’s wrists.

Yibo moaned his agreement.

“It was a rhetorical question. I know how much you like it.” Weilong’s gaze turned distant, as though he were remembering. “The way you let yourself go…no one does it like you.” He abruptly pulled out of Yibo’s mouth, trailing a string of saliva. “I talked myself into it,” Weilong said with a breathless laugh. “Come up here, my handsome didi.”

Yibo let himself be hooked beneath the arms and pulled to his feet. He immediately flung his arms behind Weilong’s neck and ground against him, hard cock to hard cock.

“Please,” Yibo gasped against Weilong’s plush lips. “You’ve got me so turned on.”

Weilong kissed him hard and broke away. “Lube’s in my shorts.”

Yibo didn’t bother asking why Weilong had brought lube along to their skateboarding session. It was presumptuous, but not wrong, since Yibo was about to receive the fucking that Weilong had expected to give him. 

He found the travel-sized tube and squirted half of it into his palm. He kept hold of the tube while he slicked up Weilong’s cock. Weilong was long just like his body, and Yibo could already imagine that length filling him and rubbing over his prostate…he moaned beneath his breath and rubbed his thighs together in excitement.

“That’s enough,” Weilong panted with a shudder, as though he were already close. He turned Yibo around by the shoulder and pressed up against his back. “Now put some on my fingers.”

Yibo rested his cheek against the door and squirted the remainder of the lube as directed. Soon, Weilong was stretching him with slippery fingers. They’d had sex that morning, so Yibo didn’t require too much extra prep. He quickly took three fingers and arched his back in anticipation when the fingers were removed.

Weilong drove his cock into him in one long, relentless push. Yibo’s mouth fell open with a throaty groan as Weilong bottomed out. Yibo shoved a hand between himself and the door only to have Weilong pull his hand away and pin it, along with his other hand, behind Yibo’s back.

“No, please,” Yibo pleaded. He thrust against the door, but the smooth surface was insufficient to get him off. He tried to pull his hand free. “Weilong, I need to touch myself.”

Weilong began fucking him with deep, hard thrusts that rattled the door. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of you.” He kissed Yibo’s shoulder. “Always.”

He didn’t lie. Yibo quickly became a mess, drooling against the door as Weilong pounded him. Every thrust hit him exactly where he needed it to and he could feel that tortuous pressure building in his groin like a grenade with a pulled pin.

“Weilong,” he moaned. “Gege, please.”

His wrists were transferred to one grip and Weilong snaked his free hand around Yibo’s hip to take hold of his cock. Yibo cried out with relief as he finally received the friction he needed.

“Together, yeah?” Weilong breathed against his ear as he stroked and fucked.

Yibo nodded frantically, fingers curling in Weilong’s grip. “I’m nearly there…”

“Me, too.” Weilong’s laugh sounded like a groan. “I can never hold out when it comes to you.”

He fucked Yibo with increasing speed, until he had Yibo crying out with every thrust against his prostate. A buzzing sound filled Yibo’s ears. Fire spread from his groin—

And then the pressure broke like a sound wave, knocking Yibo off his axis. He let Weilong crush him to the door as he came inside Yibo. It held him upright while Yibo splashed the wood in front of him with his own release.

“God,” Yibo breathed as he sagged.

“You’re amazing.” Weilong held him up by the hips, lips moving gently across the back of Yibo’s neck. 

“We really need a shower,” Yibo said a snort of amusement.

“Round two?” Weilong asked hopefully.

“Oh, my god, you’re too young for me.”

Weilong laughed and turned Yibo around. He caged Yibo in with his arms. Weilong’s eyes were shining. His thick hair fell loosely over his forehead. Yibo reached up and brushed it back, but he liked how it immediately fell forward again as though it refused to be tamed.

“You’re the didi around here,” Weilong reminded him with a playful glimmer in his eyes.

Yibo was sticky all over, but he still pulled Weilong closer, knowing Weilong would come to him even if he were drenched in gasoline.

“And you take such good care of me, gege,” Yibo said softly.

Weilong touched Yibo’s chin, his lips. His eyes roamed over Yibo as though seeing him for the first time and being amazed all over again.

“Shower?” he murmured.

Yibo leaned up and kissed him. “Together.”

~~~~~

Yibo was scheduled for an interview, but Weilong was free for the rest of the day so Yibo left him in his apartment while he fulfilled his duty. It never occurred to him to ask Weilong to leave and wait for him elsewhere. He trusted Weilong with everything, and he wanted the younger man as near as possible, even while Yibo was away. When Yibo left, it was to the sight of Weilong sitting cross-legged on the floor of his living room and loading up a game on his Playstation. Throughout the interview, Yibo kept thinking about that image and how happy it made him. He couldn’t wait to go home and join Weilong in the game.

By the time he did get home, though, the hour was later than he’d hoped. He walked through the door calling out, “I’m hungry! Let’s go eat.”

“I was getting ready to raid your fridge,” Weilong confessed as he drifted out of the living room wearing a rueful smile. “By the way, I beat all your top scores.”

“Only for the moment,” Yibo said cockily. “I’ll kick your butt as soon as we get back.” Yibo grabbed his hand. “Hurry, before I waste away.”

There was a small barbecue place near his complex that Yibo considered _his_ place. He’d discovered it a year ago and wanted to keep it secret so it wouldn’t be overrun by other celebrities who in turn would drag in fans and media. Thus, he’d never taken friends there, though he’d recommended it to non-industry people. Yibo hesitated only a few seconds before deciding he wanted to show it to Weilong.

The place was busy despite the late hour and they needed to stand outside on the sidewalk while they waited for a table to open. Though they were dressed conservatively with baseball caps pulled low over their faces, they didn’t want to attract any attention. Yibo itched to lean against Weilong or hold his hand, but had to settle with basking in the long looks that Weilong gave him as though admiring Yibo were his favorite hobby in the world.

“Yibo? Bo-di?”

Yibo froze. He didn’t want to turn around. He watched the faint smile on Weilong’s face smooth out into a neutral expression as he looked over Yibo’s shoulder at the person who’d hailed him.

Not _person_. Xiao Zhan.

Yibo forced his feet to move. His former co-star stood on the sidewalk with two other young men whom Yibo recognized from photos Xiao Zhan had once shown him while they worked together. The men weren’t celebrities, only friends from Xiao Zhan’s life before he’d decided to enter the entertainment industry.

“Xiao Z-Zhan,” Yibo stuttered. “What are you doing here?” He quickly looked around, but no one had followed Xiao Zhan and media and fans weren’t crouched in the street.

“Came to Beijing for a photoshoot,” Xiao Zhan told him with his wide, cheerful smile. “I remembered you mentioned this place to me, so I thought I’d finally try it.”

“I didn’t mention it, I invited you here,” Yibo said. _And you declined._

“Ah, yes. Sorry that it didn’t work out. Funny that we still both ended up here.”

Xiao Zhan’s bright smile was as sunny as ever. Yibo knew he’d always enjoy the way the older man’s eyes squeezed into happy slits. But those eyes didn’t make his heart flutter as they used to. He preferred wider eyes topped by thick, sword-like eyebrows, and a smile that was less like the sun and more like a soothing, serene breeze.

“Are you here alone?” Xiao Zhan asked, but his attention lifted beyond Yibo’s shoulder. Yibo could feel that Weilong had walked up. “Ah, never mind. Song Weilong, is it?”

“That’s right.” Weilong’s long arm appeared from behind Yibo to shake Xiao Zhan’s hand. Yibo stood tensely, unsure of what he feared would happen. “Yibo always has great recommendations,” Weilong murmured, “so I was eager to try this place out.”

Xiao Zhan cocked his head. He had always reminded Yibo of an inquisitive bird, and that impression hadn’t changed as Xiao Zhan appeared to work something out.

“I saw a video on Weibo…” He trailed off, studying Yibo and then Weilong. “Some fans had tagged me, but it obviously wasn’t me.”

Yibo swallowed. For a moment he was amused that Weilong’s attempt to ensure he was tagged correctly had apparently failed after all. But there wasn’t much funny about what was being implied here.

“Bo Junyi Xiao isn’t real,” Yibo said lightly, even though every word weighed down his tongue. “Remember?”

Regret softened Xiao Zhan’s features slightly. “Yes. That’s right.”

“Fans know what’s pretty, but they don’t always know what’s best,” Weilong stated quietly. 

A few seconds passed. Then Xiao Zhan said, “Could you clarify that?”

Yibo wanted to drag Weilong away, but something kept him in place. A sense of inevitability, perhaps.

“You two are the perfect example,” Weilong said to Xiao Zhan. “You look good together, but you have nothing in common.”

Yibo held his breath. He would have elbowed Weilong, but that would have confirmed the suspicion that had spread over Xiao Zhan’s face.

“We have enough in common to be very good friends,” Xiao Zhan said.

“Yes, and you probably always will be good friends. But on a day to day basis—you and he aren’t much alike.”

Yibo couldn’t believe how obvious Weilong was being. And yet…he didn’t completely hate it.

Weilong rested a hand briefly on Yibo’s shoulder. “Yibo likes his geges, but six years is a big gap.”

_Oh, my god, Weilong._

“You’re a ninety-nine liner, aren’t you?” Xiao Zhan’s features had begun to firm. Yibo had seen the look on him before. Xiao Zhan had an edge and wasn’t good at hiding it. “Difficult to be a gege when you’re younger than him, isn’t it?”

“Yibo isn’t the only person who can be wiser than their years.”

Xiao Zhan’s gaze moved back to Yibo, and there was no mistaking his momentary look of fondness. “No, Yibo is no kid.”

As weird and awkward as it was to be discussed by the two love interests in his life, Yibo sensed a door shutting while another opened wider.

“I’m old enough, anyway, to recognize what’s good for me,” Yibo said carefully. “Zhan-ge, I’ve found it.”

The other man’s eyes widened. “Have you?”

Yibo still held feelings for him. He couldn’t blame Xiao Zhan for being straight any more than he could blame himself for being gay. Xiao Zhan occupied a special space in his heart. But it was a much smaller space than it had been. Yibo had made room for someone else. 

Softly, he said, “I hope things are as good for you as they are for me, Zhan-ge.”

“Lao Wang,” Xiao Zhan said with a sigh. The firmness in his face melted away. His smile for Yibo was slightly sad, but reminiscent of hundreds he’d exchanged with Yibo during their many months of bonding. “I’m doing well. I’m doing better after hearing that you’re happy.”

“I am.” Yibo ached to reach back and take Weilong’s hand. He needed the younger man to feel reassured. “Everything has turned out better than I’d hoped.”

“Good. That’s good.” Xiao Zhan flashed his little rabbit teeth before looking over Yibo’s shoulder again. “Weilong…I hadn’t heard much about you, but I can tell for myself that you’re young but not soft. That’s good. You’ve got to be strong to survive being around this wild kid.”

“I’ll keep up with him.”

Xiao Zhan smirked. “Take care of him. He’s got a lot of geges who’d make life difficult for you if he gets hurt.”

“That will never happen.” 

Weilong’s earnest response made Yibo’s throat ache.

A server called for Yibo, telling him their table was ready. Yibo offered Xiao Zhan a little wave even though he would have liked to have given him a hug goodbye. But they were who they were. They couldn’t risk it in public.

Yibo and Weilong followed the server to their table, crammed between dozens of others. Yibo sat down but couldn’t pick up the menu. His hands were shaking.

“Will you miss him?”

Weilong was looking at Yibo’s hands.

Yibo pressed them flat to the table. “I will, but not in the way you think. I’ve got you.” His throat was suddenly dry. “Right?”

Weilong reached across the table and laced his fingers with Yibo’s. “You’ve got me. Xiao Zhan Lite.”

The contact was a huge risk. Yibo took a bigger one. He thought of his reluctance to hug Xiao Zhan while he pulled Weilong’s hand to his mouth and kissed his fingers in public. “No. I’ve got Song Weilong Full Strength. No one else.”

A single photograph taken right then would have ruined Song Weilong’s career and torpedoed Yibo’s, but he’d finally found something worth risking it all for. Or make that, someone.

“I want to see you more often,” Yibo told him. “Whatever we have to do to make that happen, I want it to happen.”

Weilong’s smile was unlike any he’d shown Yibo before. It seemed to light him up from inside. “I’ve waited over four years for this, Yibo.” He squeezed Yibo’s fingers. “I’ll make it happen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could have been longer with a proper conflict, but I always intended this to be quick. Hope you enjoyed a relatively angst-free fic.


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